


When I Was [Not] Asleep

by FindingMyPerhaps



Series: The Ballad of Mary Winchester II [4]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, F/M, Incest, Sibling Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-03
Updated: 2016-08-03
Packaged: 2018-07-29 02:25:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 928
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7666717
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FindingMyPerhaps/pseuds/FindingMyPerhaps
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean had promised it would be just the weekend, then he'd be out of their lives.</p><p>This was never what Mary wanted.</p>
            </blockquote>





	When I Was [Not] Asleep

**Author's Note:**

> Reminder that this Mary Winchester is an OC created by me as Sam Winchester's twin sister. This has nothing to do with the actual mother of Sam and Dean.
> 
> Posted to my tumblr 20 July, 2015

One weekend. That’s all they get.  Dean had promised one weekend to Sam so he could get him back for that damn interview, and he could get Mary back to continue her medical studies.

And yeah, so it happened.  Maybe it didn’t happen the way Mary wanted it to, but it had happened.  

Dean and Mary had slept together.

It wasn’t romantic, wasn’t sweet, wasn’t slow.  It was rough and hard and something they just _needed_.  Like the first breath of air, the first gasping breath that filled their lungs completely and gave them that euphoric _rush_. 

Four years, and Dean’s lips still taste the same.  Like _home_.

Sam’s in the other motel room because really, no one has rooms with three beds in these parts.  Besides, he’s camping out in the same bed Dad had been in before he left, with all the papers about the Woman in White on the walls.  So Dean and Mary are in another room with two beds.

It wasn’t necessarily a quick fuck, but Mary knew better than to expect Dean to cuddle her after _that_.  Her wrists and hips are sore from Dean’s hands, her neck is sore from Dean’s teeth and his amazing mouth, her _own_ mouth is sore from the rough kisses, but she doesn’t care.  Because she’s never felt more alive.  

Dean’s been in the shower for twenty minutes, and Mary tries not to think that Dean is scrubbing her from his skin.  If she closes her eyes, she can pretend she’s seventeen again and everything is okay.  Time doesn’t exist in the dark.

When Dean comes out of the bathroom, Mary has her back to him.  There’s a mirror and she can see Dean’s silhouette with the cheap yellow light around him, and he’s fully dressed.  

She closes her eyes before he has the chance to catch her looking.  

Behind her, the second bed gives a squeak and a groan.  Dean’s sitting, and by the distance of the sound, it’s on the edge of the bed, looking at her.  Mary takes deep and slow breaths, holds the sheets to her chest while her bare back is exposed to her big brother.  

The silence makes her want to scream.

“Four years,” Dean says behind her, and Mary almost jumps from it.  Dean’s voice is soft, rough, and if she hadn’t been sneaking phone calls to him for the past four years, she might not have recognized it.  “Four years, and you’re still…”

 _Still_ what _?_ is Mary’s question, but she says nothing.  As far as Dean needs to know, she’s asleep.

Mary can almost hear Dean thinking, can almost hear how he swallows around the end of that sentence.

“I swore I’d always protect you,” he speaks again, his voice stronger but still quiet.  “Swore I’d never let anyone or anything hurt you, and here we are.”

Somewhere inside of Mary, she feels the urge to say something, but she’s forgotten what its like to go by instinct.  So she just listens.

Dean scoffs, like he’s smiling but _not really_.  “Hell, I’ve broken every damn promise I’ve ever made to you.”

 _No, you haven’t,_ Mary thinks and squeezes her eyes shut tight. _You still found me.  You still saved me._

There’s the sound of the bed creaking again, and then the two thuds of Dean’s boots dropping next to him on the floor.  She hears him slip them on in the silence of the room.  A car goes by outside, and Mary holds her breath.

_Don’t leave me.  Not again._

“I don’t know you anymore, Mary.  And you don’t know me.”  Dean slips on the last boot, hits his heel on the floor to make sure he’s got it completely on.  “I know your sorrows.  Your regrets, your sadness.  But that’s all.”  Then he takes a deep breath before he adds, “That’s all you ever called me for, anyway.”

Mary wants to call him a liar, wants to say he’s wrong, but the thing is, he really _isn’t_.  She called him when she missed him, when she was too lonely, when she felt so broke.   _Dean, Sam broke up with me.  Dean, Sam won’t talk to me.  Dean, Sam won’t look at me.  Dean, Sam has a girlfriend.  Dean. Dean. ~~Dean~~._

_Dean, I’m so **sorry**._

“Calling you would’ve made things worse.”  Dean stands from the bed, and he walks to the little table, grabs his jacket from the back of the wooden chair and puts it on.  “Doesn’t matter anymore.”  

Mary hears the drag of the keys against the wooden table as Dean picks them up, and she knows there’s no stopping him. Knows he’s leaving - for girls, for booze, for _anything_ just so he doesn’t have to be stuck with _her_.

Dean’s boots thud against the floor as he walks to the door, and the squeak of the door hinges makes Mary’s bones ache almost as much as her heart.  

“I’m sorry,” Dean whispers to the room, and it catches in Mary’s ears and echos like a death sentence in her head.  Then he steps out and closes the door behind him.

Mary holds the sheets in a tight grip, pulls them up under her chin.  “No,” she breathes to no one.  “You’re not.”

And when the sound of the Impala start up, Mary can’t hold it anymore.  She feels the purr of the engine even as it drives away, far down the highway and away from her.

In the darkness, Mary takes in a deep breath.  Then she turns her face into the pillow and _screams_.


End file.
